


Hot Seat

by mattzerella_sticks



Category: Fantastic Four, Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, Bad Luck, Betrayal, Black Johnny Storm, Black Susan Storm, Heartbroken Peter Parker, Identity Reveal, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nervous Peter Parker, Sweet, Worried Peter Parker, heartbroken Johnny Storm, two-person love triangle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26692471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: Spiderman likes Johnny. Like likes him. And he thought Johnny felt the same. He wasn't wrong, but Johnny like liked someone else, too. Someone he actually wanted to pursue, over Spiderman.Unfortunately that someone is Peter Parker.However, after a terrible misunderstanding, Johny isn't too keen on seeing either Peter or Spiderman; the longer this confusion left unresolved, the more Johnny's hurt would fester. Can Peter find a way to make Johnny listen?
Relationships: Peter Parker/Johnny Storm
Comments: 6
Kudos: 146





	Hot Seat

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! First Spideytorch fic - been reading a lot of fics and I've been loving the dynamic (used to be Spideypool all the way but now I'm fifty-fifty lol)
> 
> An ✨✨✨ IMPORTANT ✨✨✨ thing to note: while writing this, I casted actors in my head for Peter and Johnny - Jake Picking and Jeremy Pope, respectively. Just so you're aware 😉

Peter stares at his phone, hoping that Johnny will reply to one of the many, _many_ messages he sent over the past few days before Peter continues with his latest and most idiotic plan. Seeing the most recent one – _Torch, please, the cold shoulder is ridiculous_ – still left on read, no sign of typing dots appearing, Peter forfeits any intervention from the other man. Squaring his shoulders, Peter drops from the building’s ledge.

_Thwack!_

He swings, climbing higher and higher, towards the most intimidating and heavily fortified building on 42nd street.

The Baxter Building never felt less welcoming. And Peter could blame Johnny, but deep down he knew whose fault it was. Who could have prevented such a Galactus-level misunderstanding. Could have deterred this crisis if he were braver.

Like any normal night, Peter traipsed through the air space above horrendous New York City traffic. The lights blurring underfoot with each completed arc. Peter journeyed uptown, nearing Central Park. And as he decided between left and right, a fiery bullet sped past and swept the board for a third answer. Peter followed Johnny’s trail, crawling up the brickwork of a nearby building that overlooks the park.

“Torch!” he crowed, watching as his friend touched onto the roof. Flames extinguished like a rolling wave, from the tips of his toes until sparks flew off his bleached curls. Brown eyes, warm like hot cocoa, lit up at hearing his nickname; a wide grin cracked his face like an egg. The yolk pouring out and sizzling on Peter’s frying pan heart. Each added beat like an extra click on a stove, turning up the heat.

“Spidey,” Johnny said, gripping his hand for a quick shake, then dragging him into a one-armed hug, “Just the bug I’m lookin’ for.”

“Not a bug…” he mumbled, too aware of how in such a loose hold their chests were flushed together. He broke the embrace, sidestepping the other hero. Giving Johnny a wide berth for Peter’s sanity. “So… what do you need? Interdimensional incident? Rescue mission? …Prank?”

Johnny, in a rare show, adopted a more bashful pose. His smile shrunk to half its size, teeth hiding as his lips fell over them like a curtain. Head bowed, he focused on the embers dancing out of his fingertips. A nervous habit Ben mentioned in passing once that Peter never saw until then. “Well… it’s nothing that serious,” he started, not looking at him anymore. “But it’s still important and I’d – excuse me,” he cleared his throat, voice scratchy suddenly, “I’d appreciate if you and I could… talk?”

At least three different quips flit through his mind. He swallowed them all. Peter didn’t need a Spider-Sense to know that his ribbing wouldn’t be appreciated. Instead, he reached forward. Clapped Johnny on the shoulder, startling him so brown eyes looked into white lenses. He mirrored Johnny’s expression, even if it was pointless. “You know I’m always here for you Johnny,” he said, “whatever it is…” Then, since he couldn’t help himself. “Even if you decided to give up superheroing for a quiet, _boring_ life on a farm _far_ away from your favorite webslinger… I’m sure I’d understand. Somewhat.”

Snickering, Johnny whacked his hand off. “I can’t believe you…”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Peter huffed, “I’d probably make sure you weren’t a Skrull first.” Mood lightened, Peter plopped onto a nearby air vent. “So? Spill it hot stuff!”

Johnny stiffened at the nickname, a sign Peter should have taken for what it was. Like deer fleeing the woods, the smell of smoke not reaching your nose yet. Or being on a boat, sky clear and blue, although there’s a charge in the air. Disaster was at hand.

“What?”

“Spidey…” He turned, facing the park. His shoulders drooped with a deep breath, tension leaking out as he looked off into the distance. “You can’t call me that anymore.”

“Johnny,” Peter stood, “What’s –“

“You can’t call me hot stuff, and you… you can’t flirt with me. Not anymore.” Heavy ultimatums that hurt worse than a lashing from Doc Oc or ten-thousand volts from Electro. “I just… I can’t take it.”

Peter stumbled, at a loss for words. In time, he strung together a few. “I… I’m sorry,” he said, shame coiling tight and _cold_ in his stomach. “I never meant to make you _uncomfortable_ … if I overstepped boundaries or – or read things wrong –“

“No, that’s just it,” Johnny said, finally facing him again. Laughing, bittersweet and beautiful. Church bells during a funeral. “It’s not because I’m uncomfortable… far from it, actually.”

“Then…” Peter’s tongue felt useless, hanging on by a thread. “Then… why?”

“I want something _more_ ,” he confessed, “More than… than what this is. This – this confusing partnership-slash-friendship-slash… _whatever_.” Johnny dragged a hand across his face, steam twisting around his fingers. “Fuck, I want a relationship. And I think I found someone who can give that to me?”

“Really,” Peter asked, defiant. Banging his fists on the subway car as it lingered in the station. “Johnny if you want that… all you had to do was say so! What could they give you that I can’t?”

“A name, for starters.”

Peter visibly flinched, fight crumbling into sand.

“A face,” he continued, “friends I can meet… family he can introduce me to. Co-workers who, when I show up and surprise him for lunch, can go ‘is that Johnny Storm, the Human Torch’ he can say ‘no that’s Johnny Storm, my boyfriend’.” Johnny’s knees shook, but he remained standing. “We’ve known each other for years, and you _still_ haven’t shown me your face. Don’t you… don’t you trust me? How can you like me, but not trust me?”

There’s no answer he can give that would make Johnny happy. Peter crashed into the air vent, mindful of the newly formed dent. Glad for the mask in such a moment. Johnny can’t see his face. He can’t see his _pain_. But he can definitely _hear_ it. “Well… good for you, I guess,” he sniffed, leaning on his knees, “this lucky guy gave you a name? What is it?”

Johnny, softening into another timid display, shifted on his feet. “You actually know him,” he said. Bouncing, like he would rather fly off than tell Peter who he lost to. Who _Spiderman_ lost to. “I… I don’t want to make it awkward.”

“It won’t be awkward.” A rushed promise he cannot necessarily keep. Pettiness flowed through his body like blood, and if given a name Peter will devote time on his already busy schedule to messing with whoever cut in on the funny little dance between him and Johnny. “I swear,” he lied.

Johnny arched a doubtful brow. “Okay,” he relented, sighing, “it’s… you know that guy?”

“I know tons of guys.”

“No, this one – he works for the Bugle,” Johnny lifted his hands, holding onto air in front of his face. He closed one eye, and a finger twitched. He imitated a click and shutter with his lips, capturing Peter’s utter disbelief in a fake photograph. “The one who gets all your good sides, who made that book about you? Peter Parker?”

“Oh,” he said, “… _him_?”

Of course.

Peter quietly traipses the Baxter Building, sticking within the shadows. Reflecting on the sheer coincidence and _misfortune_ that Peter wound up on opposite ends of a love triangle. Johnny Storm dead smack in the center of a one-sided tug-of-war.

He should have noticed, though. How Johnny warmed up to Peter recently, after they reconnected. Not necessarily running in the same circles during high school – Johnny home-schooled and a celebrity, Peter barely given a second glance when out of costume – they crossed paths every now and then. On assignment for the Bugle at a swanky function or in the streets, coincidentally. Peter, by virtue of being himself, immediately irked the teenage Wicker Man. Every conversation between them, in the past, filled with sniping comments and waxy fakeness.

Not like Spiderman and the Human Torch got along then, either. Hormones, insecurity, and superpowers did not mix well. Both of them caught in the resulting explosion meant awkward and difficult team-ups.

But time went on. Peter and Johnny barely saw each other, and Spiderman and the Human Torch learned how to set aside their differences. They actually became friends. Best friends. And something _more_ he couldn’t speak aloud.

Then Johnny entered Peter’s life again. “Wow,” he muttered, gaze scrolling down his body, “you… look bigger.”

Not really. He stopped wearing baggy sweaters, bottle-coke glasses he didn’t need, and cut the mop on his head. But Johnny never saw Peter in a shirt that actually _fit_ him.

Still, even with the chapter on puberty closed, Peter figured first impressions were made and set in stone. As himself, Johnny considered Peter a friendly but often annoying _fly_ that buzzed around. Entertained because who would harm a fly besides a sociopath. Jokes laughed at because it was better than letting an awkward silence linger. Or passionate rants suffered through because Johnny blocked whatever Peter said, mind thinking about a million other things. When Peter slipped, flirting in a way only Spiderman did with Johnny, he figured Johnny’s response more a reflex.

It was all intentional. That never occurred to him. Stunned, Peter strategically retreated from the rooftop conversation with Johnny. Stuttering through an excuse, he tripped over the building’s ledge and nearly splat onto the sidewalk if he hadn’t shot a web at the last second. He ignored Johnny’s calls as he fled through the night.

Now Johnny ignores his calls. Peter’s. Spiderman’s. Both men having pissed off the fiery hero in a horrible, but foreseeable, misunderstanding.

“Johnny…” Peter reaches his window, peering inside, “where are you my little firefly…” Nothing moves. He tries pushing on the glass, finding it uncharacteristically locked. “Dammit…”

There’s no getting in that way.

Peter abandons Johnny’s window, hurrying. Sprinting, building speed, so when he jumps, he rolls his landing on the roof.

Johnny may have blocked his usual entrance, but Peter doubts he remembers this one. Used in the beginning, when Peter and the Fantastic Four were still strangers. If there was an emergency and Peter needed help, he would sneak in through this exhaust tunnel. Security minimal given the tight squeeze.

While a fifteen-year old Spiderman could easily slip in like Santa, with his current, adult body, Peter barely manages. Except he doesn’t exit where he usually does. While wiggling through the musty, ashen chute, Peter hears the metal creak and groan. Something pops and pings. His Spider Sense fritzes a second too late.

He drops down. Not into Reed’s lab, like he expected. The ceiling breaks, Peter landing on his stomach while a cloud of foul dust trails behind him. “Gah…” he whines, checking for any broken bones, “this _totally_ won’t help with my apology…”

“You don’t know the half’a it, _bug_ ,”

Seizing, Peter follows the noise. He spots Ben Grimm standing in front of a door frame, nearly eclipsing it with his orange, rocky frame. Flanked by Sue and Reed, the three other members of the Fantastic Four glare at him as if he were Doctor Doom.

“Hey,” he croaks, speaking around the lump of fear lodged in his throat, “nice seeing you all… Sue, did you do something with your hair? It’s been forever since you’ve braided it.” She folds her arms over her chest, flicking the tightly woven coils over her shoulder. “Johnny told you what happened, didn’t he?”

Reed’s arm shoots forward, trapping him. Squeezes _bruised_ ribs while dangling him over the shattered remains of a coffee table he hadn’t noticed during his fall. A pinata with three-very candy crazed children circling like sharks.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Peter curses, checking off another box on his bingo card of bad luck. One more and he’ll have five in a row.

He’d been avoiding Johnny. As Peter and Spiderman. Mainly by spending every moment of free time in costume, swinging through the streets. Never stopping for too long, only when an emergency struck. Sometimes not even then. Once, he spotted a few robbers pounding pavement by Hudson Yards. He swung in with a kick, knocking a bad guy into the water; flicked his wrist two more times and stuck the accomplices to nearby posting. Peter carried on with his patrol.

All that time as Spiderman meant a few things. He barely slept, staying at his apartment for a few short hours since Johnny knew where he lived. The costume became a second-skin, too. Lines became blurred, and there were moments where Peter thought he wore his mask when he wasn’t. Making faces that were visible and embarrassing. Miming, lifting imaginary fabric before he ate. Almost firing a web off without changing.

But when he wore the costume, he forgot it was even there.

Like the miserable morning Johnny caught him.

Peter woke up in bed, cold. The blanket fell off him in the night, and his tattered suit lain over his desk chair. Damaged after a fight with the Vulture. Overwhelmed by the criminal because his thoughts were elsewhere, taking damage normally avoided. Battle longer than he expected, Peter slumped into his apartment late at night. Stripping with the little energy he had left and collapsing on the bed in his Spiderman boxer-briefs.

And his mask.

Yawning, Peter shuffled out of his bedroom and into his kitchen. He checked his phone, delighted at the rare peacefulness that came from his schedule being clear. With only an appointment late in the afternoon, Peter decided he should treat himself with a nice breakfast. A big breakfast.

Or eggs, as they were the only items in his fridge not expired.

Peter grabbed a pan and started cooking.

Although it took seconds for his mind to wander, Peter still a little sleepy. Turning the burner on low, he groped behind for his phone again. Peter opened his Spotify app and hit shuffle, smiling when the first song came on. “The classics…” he sighed, hips shaking with the beat. Wyclef John started his intro, Peter mouthing along. Never missing a single lyric. Body awkwardly following behind, embarrassingly so. An insult to Shakira.

He shuffled through a few more songs while in his kitchen, enjoying himself. Forgetting about his past worries. Nothing mattered except his breakfast, the music, and him.

While the eggs cooled on a plate, Peter freed himself from the stove and began dancing around the apartment. Hopping, throwing his arms up, and singing wildly off-key as Patrick Stump transitioned into the ending for ‘What a Catch, Donnie’.

As all the layered vocals crescendo, Peter sensed movement out the corner of his eye. He looked, and immediately tensed.

Johnny, de-flamed and holding a bouquet of Amaryllis, gaped through the open window by his fire escape. They stared for an obscene amount of time, enough for Peter to realize he was practically naked save for his underwear and mask.

His _mask_.

“Johnny,” Peter started, wincing as his phone continued playing. Britney’s voice echoing in the apartment. “I can explain…”

The trance broke. Johnny screwed his mouth shut in an ugly frown, eyes blazing. Skin smoking. The flowers he carried were immolated in his grasp. Peter mournfully watched ashen petals fall; they were his favorites.

“I… I can’t believe you, Spidey.” Johnny stormed into the apartment, blonde afro enflamed. “You… you fucking _asshole_.”

“What?”

“You fucking prick!” He shoved Peter, tipping him over and onto the couch. Floating above, Peter could only stare as the other hero spiraled in front of him. “You are the worst fucking friend – you… you… you couldn’t let me have this? Not if it wasn’t you? You _promised_.” His voice cracked, the shards stabbing Peter’s heart. Tears boiled, droplets becoming steam on his cheeks. “But you fucked me over you _selfish_ asshole.”

“What?” Peter asked, gasping for breath. His chest was too tight, no air getting in. Squashed under a heavy boot of regret, watching Johnny breakdown because of him. “I… whatever you’re thinking, it’s –“

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” he growled, fists flaming. “You can’t spin yourself out of this web, not after catching you here. Catching you post- _fuck_ with Peter. Making him breakfast while he… while he what? Sleeps? Because you’re an _awesome lay_?” Johnny glared at the closed bedroom door, yelling. “Fuck you Peter Parker!” Then, at Spiderman. “And fuck you, too. Friendship _over_.”

He flew, Peter numbly calling after him. Stopping at the window’s edge, fear keeping him from thwapping out. Chasing Johnny so he can explain. Johnny’s exit must have drawn someone’s eye. If they saw Peter leaving in his Spiderman costume, the puzzle would complete itself.

Which is why he’s here. Hoping he could trap Johnny in the Baxter Building, surprise him with an explanation. Of how Peter, being Spiderman’s _friend_ , let him crash in his apartment while he visited his aunt. Besides the truth, it’s the best excuse he can create.

And he _can’t_ say the truth, obviously.

“Listen,” Peter struggles in Reed’s grasp, “I’m here in good faith.”

“Somehow I don’t believe that…” Ben says, grinding his fist in an open palm. The sound grates on Peter’s nerves.

“No, really,” he says, “I – I came to apologize to Johnny. Explain what he saw –“

“He saw _enough_ ,” Sue says, stepping forward. Like her brother, a fire burned in her eyes. Except without the actual pyrotechnics, her quiet anger scared Peter _more_. “You should leave, Spiderman. Only contact us if there’s an emergency – even then… we better be the last heroes you try.” She sighs, pinching her brow. Like he gave Sue a migraine by _existing_. “Y’know, Johnny really _liked_ Peter.”

“I know, I know –“

“And yet you still went behind his back?” Ben scoffed, “What a _friendly_ neighborhood spider…”

Peter groaned, head thrown back. “I didn’t sleep with Peter!” he shouts, swinging, “I _couldn’t_ sleep with Peter!” Choking, he bites his lip. The latter half of his statement spoken in complete exasperation, afterthought barging in only when his teeth _clacked_ on the ‘r’.

Three doubtful sets of eyes stare at him. “Sure,” Ben says, “You _couldn’t_. So… you still wanted to?”

“No!” he says, trembling, “No, I – it’s like you said, Johnny liked him. What kind of friend would I have been if I had… Peter’s not my type, anyway. Too much of a nerd and – and God, he has the worst taste in _everything_. Such a scaredy cat, too, never takes a risk…” Cramming more of his foot in mouth, Peter switches tactics seeing the heroes grow angrier at his self-deprecation. “Peter wasn’t even in the apartment when Johnny was there?” he tries, weakly. Unconvincingly. “He was at his aunt’s?”

“Can I hit him?” Ben asks the others, “Please? No one’ll even see the bruise!”

“No, Ben,” Reed tells him, releasing Peter. Dropping him onto the broken table pieces again. He arches a judgmental brow at Peter, “We’re _better_ than cheap shots.”

Panic sets in. Peter rushes forward, slamming against an invisible barrier. Sue’s mouth thins as she pushes, Peter digging his heels in. “No,” he says, straining, “no I can’t leave without talking to him.”

“You have no right,” Sue says, using both hands as she fights with him. He slides backwards, losing. “He doesn’t want to see you. Not tonight, not ever again. You ruined any chance he has with Peter.”

“I’m… not…” he says, “he’s… ruining his chance –“

“Oh yeah!” Ben snickered, “And how’s that?”

“Because _I’m_ Peter!”

Peter slams onto his face, the invisible wall disappearing. Pain barely registers over the shock at revealing his identity to the others. They all gape at Peter, feeling the same cocktail of emotions that stir inside him. “W-what,” Sue whispers, “you – you can’t…”

A thought surfaces. He could leave, and Johnny’s family could reason Peter’s response as the throes of desperation taking hold. Crazed response carrying little weight.

But this might be his only chance. Johnny would hear the others’ recount, and then nothing he'll ever say could fix their issues. Another misunderstanding tearing at frayed cord.

In the space between blinks, Peter decides one secret he spent so hard protecting was worth nothing if it meant an eternity suffering in icy solitude.

Swallowing his fear, he scrambles up. Tears off his mask in one swoop, dropping it in the wreckage. “I’m Peter Parker,” he says. Puffs his chest with false bravado, when every logical bone in his body tells him to deflate. “I’ve always been Peter Parker, from the very beginning.” Before they could respond, he shuffles close. With wide eyes, he works through his nerves and says, “Please, let me see Johnny. Let me _explain_ to the hotheaded idiot that I’m kinda in love with.”

“…You’re only _kinda_ in love with me?”

Johnny stands in the doorway once blocked by Ben. He’s dressed sloppily, in sweatpants and a hoodie Peter never saw before. Stained with an innumerable amount of foods Peter bets they could stock a fridge with. “Peter,” he drifts forward, “you’re… _wow_.” Giggling, Johnny scratches at his neck. “Only kinda in love, huh?” he repeats.

“Well,” Peter says, “I – uh… it might’ve been more. The whole way. But then you chose some other guy –“

“ _You_ were the other guy.”

“And you ran off, before I could offer you some of my eggs.” He blanches, the ruddiness on his cheeks obvious without fabric covering them. “My breakfast,” he amends, “My… yeah.” Peter fiddles his thumbs, wincing. “I’m really sorry you had to see that. And for making you think – by not telling you –“

“About your secret identity,” Johnny finishes for him. Irritation creeps onto his face, hardening the soft glow in his eyes. “You realize all this could have been avoided if you told me on that rooftop, right?”

“I am aware, yes.”

“Okay.” He frowns, hand hovering between them. Like he wants to reach out but can’t. Not yet. “You came here then, to clear this all up?” Johnny asks, “Tell me the truth?”

The lies bubble up easily. Practiced in dancing around reality, Peter can give Johnny exactly what he wants to hear. Brush this entire evening under a rug and move on.

But that’s not how they should begin this. Johnny knows his secret – _should have_ known it much earlier than this. Brought in on Peter’s terms when the other hero wasn’t furious with him. If he chose the easy road paved with falsehoods, they won’t go far.

“No,” he confesses, studying his feet. Unworthy of Johnny’s beautiful face. “I wasn’t. I was gonna sell you on an awful lie, hoping you’d buy it, and then find you as Peter and… turn you down.” Johnny splutters from nearby, Peter continuing despite it. “Suggest you try Spiderman, because he _really_ likes you – _I_ really like you. And being with you as Spiderman than as… as regular ol’ Peter was… it’s all I thought I could have.”

“It didn’t have to be,” Johnny finally crosses the divide. Grabs Peter’s hand, squeezing it. His gaze trails up, finding Johnny’s warm face shining with a sunny expression. “I’d gladly have all of you… if you _trust_ me.”

“Johnny…” Peter figures he’ll be spilling more than one secret tonight. “It was never about trust. I trust you with – well, with _everything_.”

“Except –“

“Except I was so scared!” he blurts out, squeezing Johnny’s hand. “I’d think about what it’d be like, letting you in on my double life. But then my brain would always focus on what could go _wrong_. You date me – the _world_ will know about us. Whether it’s Peter and you or Spidey and you… What if we kiss while in costume, and someone snags a picture? People will think I’m a homewrecker and you’re a no-good cheat. Or they’d figure things out, put two and two and you and me and me together. And if that doesn’t _miraculously_ happen… well, you know how villains love kidnapping loved ones. They could surprise me midway through a costume change and my secret’d be everywhere. I… your family can protect themselves, but mine can’t. If I didn’t have to worry about my friends, my aunt… you understand, don’t you?”

Johnny smiles, using their joined hands to drag Peter into a hug. Lips brush against his ear, chuckling. “Yeah… I understand. I always did speak Spider better than every other hero…” Peter nuzzles at Johnny’s neck, wondering at how _fantastic_ it feels standing together like this. “Man,” he continues, mumbling, “can’t believe I never realized. It’s so obvious.”

“Imagine how obvious it’d be if we were on every magazine, trending on Twitter.”

“Then what does that mean for us? Are you still scared?”

Peter clears his throat. “Terrified. Of what being in a relationship with you will mean, and how things will change… but, somehow, the idea that you’d never be in my life again scares me even more. Given the options… I’d always pick you.”

Johnny collapses in his arms, Peter grateful for his super strength. “That’s a relief,” Johnny tells him, “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you told me all this and _still_ rejected me.” He stiffens, leaning out of the embrace. “I wouldn’t expose you, of course. Never. Not even if Jameson held me captive, threatening me with a bad dye job and an eternity of bad press – your secret’s safe with me, Peter.”

“With all of us,” Sue adds, reminding them of her presence. She, Reed, and Ben watched them from the sidelines. Ben hides behind his hand, shoulders trembling. “I hope you can forgive how we acted, Peter –“

“It’s all good,” he says, “you were looking out for Johnny. I get it.”

“Family looks out for each other,” Johnny says. He shifts, arm sliding as he tucks Peter into his side. “And since you’re practically family, that means we’ll keep an eye on everyone you’re worried about and make sure they stay safe, too.”

A smile forces itself onto his face, “You really mean it?”

“You trust me right?”

“Of course.”

“Then what else do you need?”

For the first time, Peter happily acts on his first instinct. His hand snakes around the hoodie’s collar, bunching it in his grip. “This.” He pulls Johnny down, slotting their mouths together.

Fire slowly burns over his skin from where they meet, Peter delighting in the burn. He sometimes wondered what it felt like using Johnny’s powers. Body tingling, lighter than air, and hotter than ever, Peter thinks this is the closest he’ll get without flying through cosmic rays.

They part, foreheads pressed. Johnny flutters his eyes open, the light shining there changing. Regarding Peter differently, combining two halves and seeing the entirety of his being. Knowing him, truly.

“Wow,” he gasps, “if that’s all you need, feel free to do that _whenever_.”

Peter will hold Johnny to that.

There are other things that need attending, first. Ben groans, drawing them from their little cocoon. “Great,” he says, slapping his forehead, “I thought the pining was bad, but this? We’ll never get anything done now!”

Johnny hisses, glaring past Peter at the others. “Can we get a little _privacy_ , please?”

“We’ll get out of your hair hot shot,” Sue says, corralling Reed and Ben through a different exit. “Remember though,” she sings, “if you plan on going to your room, keep your _door open_!”

“Sue!”

She snuffs the fireball with a simple thought, arching a stern brow. “Try that again and I’m taking away your Spiderman privileges.”

Johnny knocks their heads together, whistling a low, sad tune. “Sue, please…” Sue leaves without any further teasing, only Johnny and Peter in the living room now.

They don’t move. Content standing, loosely embracing, in a moment Peter wishes could last forever. It won’t. Peter’s exhaustion bears down, no longer shielded from it by adrenaline. He’ll leave soon and fall asleep in an empty bed. Wake the next morning doubting if this actually happened. Only believing when Johnny texts him something stupid yet charming, stoking the fires within his heart. Keeping it lit, chasing off any shadows that might hang over their future.

Because right now, they’re Spiderman and the Human Torch. Peter Parker and Johnny Storm. Amazing and Fantastic.

And together. Finally, blessedly _together_.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Let me know by leaving a kudos/dropping a comment below 😀


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